Movement in the Shadows
by Incuria
Summary: Ryou gets caught up in a power struggle between Marik and Bakura. Also Bakura mentally tortures Ryou with hallucinations. I suck at summaries. Rated for later chapters
1. Chapter 1

Sooo... New fic! I'm back!

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Ryou stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom, water running in the sink and disappearing down the drain. His gaze passed through the water and into the space behind it, hands gripped the square edges of the porcelain sink. His knuckles were white. There was a sound coming from outside of the bathroom, and it had been going for a while, but the boy never heard it.

It wasn't until Bakura touched his shoulder that the world started coming back to the boy. Everything fell into place slowly around him, the cold press of the sink in his hands, the tightness in the back of his legs from standing too long and too still, and finally the cool trail of water running down his cheeks. Air filled his lungs like a rapidly expanding balloon, as if he might pop. He blinked twice before finally sinking back into his own body.

"—ou. Ryou!" Bakura's voice filtered into his ears slowly and it still didn't make sense. He met the taller man's eyes in the mirror; the same shape and color as his own, but so different. Ryou finally let go of the sink, leaving the outline of his hands in heat from his body. He reached out with numb fingers and turned off the water, twisted his body around, and leaned against the sink. Bakura stood close, invading his personal space. Ryou crossed his arms over his thin chest.

"What is it?" he asked, voice hoarse from disuse. The taller man looked him up and down. The two men looked nearly identical. They could be brothers, if not twins, though no one would ever mistake the one for the other. Ryou's features were soft, rounded, feminine. He may grow out of it some day, but he looked sweet and boyish. Bakura looked as if he were a few years older. In a way he was. He held a malice that Ryou never would. His eyes were the same rounded shape, but they looked narrow from his constant frown. Something swam behind his eyes, dark and fathomless. His chin jutted in a sharp angle, like the rest of his features. He had the lean musculature of a swimmer, as if he'd worked his body into something fierce and wild. Both boys had bright, pearl colored hair. They could have been brothers, but they weren't. Bakura was… Ryou had a theory that Bakura was his personal demon from hell. Some entity from a dark corner of the universe, made just for him, just to hurt him.

Ryou fixed his chocolate colored eyes on the floor, away from Bakura. Silence stretched between the two of them, filling the room and crowding them. Ryou didn't want to be this close to his dark spirit. Couldn't stand it actually. His arms pressed close to his chest, shoulders hunching forward and desperately avoiding eye contact with the other man. He licked his lips.

"What is it?" he repeated. Bakura held up a cellphone, Ryou's father's number flashed on the screen, the seconds ticking by in flashing numbers.

"Phone's for you. It's on mute." Ryou took the phone from Bakura's hand, face going a little paler.

"Shit, why did you answer it?" He unmuted the phone and pressed it to his ear, turning away from Bakura, as if that would afford him some sort of privacy. "Hello Dad?" The voice on the other end of the phone sounded tinny, far away.

"Ryou? Can you hear me now? Are you there?" His father was far away. He was in Egypt, far from Japan and far from his son.

"Yeah, yes, I can hear you now. Sorry."

"Ryou?"

"Yes?"

"Ryou, good, I can hear you now. I think I found a good spot. The damned reception in this country is awful. But you can hear me now?" Ryou nodded, then realized he couldn't see it.

"Yeah, I can hear you fine."

"Good. Ryou, we found something in the eastern quadrant. We found some pot fragments and what might be the remains of a well. We could have found a village!"

"That's great Dad. I'm really happy for you."

"Thanks kiddo. Listen… This find is too… I'm gonna have to stay for a few more weeks… possibly another few months. I'm sorry Ryou." Ryou held the phone tightly in his hand, pressing it to his ear. He had been staring at the shower stall, but now his eyes flicked over to Bakura. The demon's expression was guarded, blank, and vaguely menacing all at once. "Ryou?" His father's voice pulled him back to the phone.

"That's fine Dad. I understand. Would you like me to send you anything from here? I could put together a care package for you." He forced his voice to remain even. Everything had gotten worse after his father left. At one point Bakura had been nothing more than a whisper in Ryou's mind, eyes in the dark. Over time he had grown. Become more real, till he had become… He didn't used to have a body. When Ryou's father left, he developed flesh and blood.

"How'd I end up with a kid like you?" The relief in his father's voice was palpable.

"Just lucky I guess."

"I guess." There was some noise in the background of the call. "Uh oh, looks like a sand storm is headed for the site, I gotta go put down some tarps with everyone. I'll call you in a week kiddo. Bye for now."

"Bye Dad." But he was saying goodbye to nothing. His father was gone. Ryou stood frozen for a few more seconds, absorbing this new information. Bakura slipped the phone out of his fingers.

"What did he have to say?" Bakura asked, pocketing the phone. Ryou shrugged and dropped his hands down to his sides.

"Um…He's not coming home for a while longer. I'm not sure how long." His voice sounded hollow even to him. He straightened and tried to step around the taller man. Bakura stopped him with a hand on his chest.

"So it's just you and I yadonushi," Bakura hissed. His words came out as a threat, and it was meant to. He was pleased with the turn of events. Ryou forced himself to nod noncommittally. "I'm glad, little Ryou. Aren't you glad?" Again he nodded, trying to keep his face blank.

"Sure." He tried to step around Bakura again, but was stopped by his fist tightening in his shirt. "Bakura, get off of me…" The older man pushed him against the cold tiled wall. He took a step closer, shoving his face into Ryou's.

"Excuse me?" his voice came out as a deep, guttural growl. Ryou glared up at him, pushing the arm from his chest.

"I'm not in the mood, can you just get off of me," Ryou repeated, brushing past him and out into the hallway. He got about halfway to the kitchen before something stopped him dead in his tracks.

Amane.

She stood in the living room, outlined by the light filtering in through the closed curtains. She was wearing the same little yellow sundress with pink flowers on it that she'd worn when the truck ran over her, with the matching pink ribbons in her hair.

Ryou froze, the color draining from his face just as his stomach twisted into a tight knot. His dead sister took a tremulous step forward, hands outstretched toward him. He backpedaled quickly till his back was pressed to yet another wall.

"Onii-chan! Oniiiiii-chaaaaaaan!" Ryou shook his head hard, as if he could clear the vision in front of him by mere force of will. "Onii-chan, I miss you. Onii-chan it's so dark here…" The little girl's voice came out twisted and thick, as if she were speaking around a mouthful of syrup. As he watched a bright spot of crimson flew from her mouth to stain her dress, then more blood came. "Onii-chan come back with me…" Amane pleaded with him, more blood falling from her mouth, she'd caught up with him and wrapped her toddler thick fingers in the hem of his shirt. Ryou turned his head away, a fine trembling spreading rapidly through his whole body. Bakura leaned against the doorframe of the bathroom, arms crossed casually over his chest and a wry smirk on his face.

"B-Bakura please…" His voice came out thick and tight. The demon could put images in his head, make him see whatever he wanted. Bakura's smirk widened.

"I'm doing what you waned yadonushi, I'm leaving you alone. Maybe you should tell _her _to get off," Bakura chided. Amane pulled insistnatly at Ryou's shirt, blood from her dress smearing on his pants.

"Onii-chan, pick me up!" she insisted, trying to climb up his clothes. Ryou pressed his hands and back to the wall, unwilling to pick the girl up but lacking the heart to push her away either. This wasn't his sister. He knew that, but the illusion was so real it was very difficult to remind himself. Tears ran down his face, trailing his cheeks and splattering onto the floor at his feet.

"Jesus Bakura, have a fucking heart!" he growled, forcing himself to make eye contact with his tormenter. Bakura shrugged nonchalantly and the little dead girl in front of Ryou disappeared, still begging her brother to pick her up. As soon as she was gone Ryou collapsed to the ground, his elbows balanced on his knees with his head cradled in his hands. Bakura moved closer, watching the younger boy on the floor and listening to his quiet sobs.

"Don't tell me what to do, _respected_ landlord," he pushed all the malice he had into that one word, then left Ryou to his thoughts.

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Review please? :)


	2. Chapter 2

Here's chapter two! Thanks for the read!

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Ryou sat in the tub, water up to the tops of his bent knees. He was happy that unlike American tubs, Japanese bathtubs were deep. It reminded him of England. He sank a few inches deeper into the steaming water, pearl colored hair wafting around his shoulders in a cloud. He closed his eyes and sank the rest of the way underwater.

Pressure entered his ears, making the sound of his own heartbeat reverberate through the water and filling his entire mind. The heat of the water pressed against his eyelids as his back touched the bottom of the tub. His hair billowed around him in a white mist. Ryou stayed underwater until his lungs ran out of oxygen and his entire diaphragm twitched over and over with the need to replenish it. Finally he pushed up to the surface, water streaming down his face and into his eyes as he pulled in a deep breath. His first exhale came out as a wet and thick cough, but then he was able to breath normally.

"I was wondering if I needed to pull you out of there," said a mildly amused voice from the doorway. Ryou glanced over at his dark counterpart and slicked his bangs up out of his face. He shrugged.

"Would you have?" Ryou asked flatly. Bakura took a few steps into the bathroom, turning looking at himself in the mirror over the sink. He mimicked Ryou's shrug.

"It would cause me problems if you died," he said absently, picking up a hairbrush and raking it through his tresses a few times. It did little to calm the wild, mussed nature of his hair. Ryou turned the hot water knob with his foot, feeling the heated water shoot and spread around his feet. The tub wasn't getting cold, and his skin was already a bright shade of pink, but he seemed to want the heat today. Near scalding.

"Why? You could take over the apartment. And even i—when Dad comes back he wouldn't know the difference between me and you." He'd almost said 'if'. Bakura leaned his hip against the sink and crossed his arms over his chest, looking at his doppelganger in the tub.

"I don't want your life Ryou. I never have; you know that," Bakura commented, tone unreadable to Ryou. The smaller boy glanced up, a bitter look in his eyes far beyond his years.

"Sure." Bakura seemed about to press the matter, but didn't. He glanced at the mirror again.

"I'm going out."

"Okay."

"Not going to ask where?"

"Do I want to know?" Bakura shot him another unreadable glance, then walked out the door.

"Don't wait up." Ryou let out a bitter little laugh. He never did. The more time spent away from the demon the better.

He spent the better part of an hour in the bath, continuously feeding it hot water till the heater finally quit. Eventually he got out, wrapping a towel around his waist and flopping another over his hair. He wandered the apartment for a little while, throwing out a few soda cans and putting away the little collection of dishes that always accumulated next to Bakura's side of the couch. He switched out of the towels and into a pair of sweat pants. He didn't bother with a shirt. After the bath his skin seemed to be more sensitive than usual and it was still pink from the too-hot bathwater. He watched a movie and did a load of laundry and was on his third circuit of the apartment when the door swung open. Ryou glanced uninterestedly at the door as Bakura came in, but then froze as he was followed by a second figure.

The second was a few inches taller than Bakura, and would be even more so than Ryou, had skin the colored of polished bronze and eyes an odd color of blue—almost violet. Even under the man's long sleeved black sweater Ryou could see thick muscles bunching in his biceps and strong forearms. They were talking as they came through the door and Ryou almost wondered if he could duck into his bedroom and wait for him the leave, or at least grab a shirt.

"Ryou, long time no see. Malik misses you," Marik commented. His words were innocuous enough, but the tone made them come out as a dull threat. Ryou nodded quietly and turned, fully intending on escaping still.

"Would you put on a kettle?" Bakura asked him in a reasonable tone, as if he didn't know where Ryou was headed. Ryou cursed inwardly.

"Sure, just let me grab a shirt," he said, taking another step toward the bedroom.

"You're fine as you are." Bakura breezed past him and threw himself into the armchair in the living room. Ryou considered pushing the matter, but decided it wasn't worth it. He just went into the kitchen and filled the electric kettle with water and flipped the switch. He could hear the other two speaking in the living room. Marik laughed at something Bakura had said and Ryou crossed his arms over his chest, butt resting against the counter. He pressed the pad of his thumb and index finger into his eyes, rubbing lightly.

He should have gone to bed hours ago. At least then he wouldn't have to deal with Bakura and his guest. He should have known that his dark counterpart going out would end badly for him. Things had been okay lately, and he should have known that it wouldn't last forever. The water clicked off and he glanced at it, not knowing what to do for a moment. He went to the doorway and leaned his head out.

"Did you want tea or coffee?" he asked. Being British he'd been automatically about to make a pot of tea, but he wasn't sure if the Egyptian would want tea or coffee or… whatever.

Two pairs of heads swiveled toward him at the same time, both with equally disturbing expressions. Both expressions of blackness. Ryou had no desire to know what they had been discussing before he'd interrupted them. He looked away quickly, resisting the urge to swallow hard.

"Tea's fine." He wasn't sure which one of them said it, he ducked back into the kitchen as soon as he had an answer. He made three mugs of black tea. He and Bakura liked a teaspoon of sugar and a splash of milk, so he made Marik's like that, unwilling to go back out ask how he wanted it. He carried two of mugs in one hand and the third in the other, watching the tan colored liquid slosh slightly as he walked. He made his way slowly out of the kitchen and into the living room, walking as smoothly as possible so as not to spill any of the tea.

As he stepped around the armchair and set down the first mug it was hard not to notice the two pairs of eyes that followed him as he moved around. They'd stopped talking when he walked in and just… watched. Like lions eyeing a gazelle. Ryou set the other mug down and was about to walk out of the room when Marik patted the seat of the couch next to him.

"Why don't you join us?" he offered in a tone that was meant to sound harmless. Ryou shook his head.

"No thank you. I'm sleepy, I'm gonna go to bed." Bakura made a noise and crossed his legs in a way that would have looked very feminine, but somehow didn't.

"Ryou, your tea has caffeine in it. You're won't fall asleep." Ryou frowned.

"I'll go dump it ou—"

"Just sit down."

"At least let me go put on a shirt."

"I said you were fine as you are." Ryou opened his mouth to argue some more when a shadow moved in the corner of his eye. His head whipped around to it even as he realized Bakura had summoned it to his mind. Ryou turned incredulous eyes back to the demon. He wouldn't. He wouldn't use _that_ in front of… But one look at Bakura told him he would.

Suppressing a sigh he tucked himself into the very edge of the couch, as far away from Marik as he could possibly get, and pulled his knees up tight against his chest. He rested the mug on top of one knee, taking sips from it every so often, even though it was still too hot to drink. Maybe if he finished it quickly he would be allowed to go to bed.

"Ryou, why don't you come around to visit Malik anymore? He's mentioned you a few times," Marik's voice floated through the tense atmosphere and wrapped around Ryou's throat like a vice. He tried to shrug nonchalantly.

"School's been sort of hectic lately," he said vaguely. The real reason he hadn't gone over to Malik's place in months was because his body had split in two, like Ryou's own, and the man sitting next to him on the couch terrified him.

"That is a shame. But…isn't school out right now?" It was a question and it was unavoidable. Ryou nodded, taking another sip of his too-hot tea in a vain attempt to wet his suddenly dry mouth. "Why, that's perfect, isn't it Ryou?" He nodded again, mechanically, feeling his throat constrict and turn to sandpaper. With every word out of that man's mouth he could feel himself sinking farther and farther down, panic pushing against the edges of his mind like water filtering into a room. His heart was pounding so hard he wondered if the others couldn't hear it. Maybe that's what was spurring Marik on. "You could make use of your vacation and come spend the weekend—"

"No."

But the word hadn't come from Ryou's lips. Chocolate and violet eyes swiveled to stare at Bakura at the same time.

"Why the fuck not?" Marik's voice came out as little more than a growl with some consonants thrown in. Ryou shrank imperceptibly into the corner of the couch.

"If Malik wants to see Ryou he can come over here. I'm sure they'd both be glad of the company," he said in a quiet, polite tone. Something passed between the men that Ryou didn't understand, but Marik backed down.

"I guess it would be good for the brat to get out of the house." The moment passed and they changed the subject. They seemed to be talking about some job they were doing together, but Ryou tuned them out hard and early in the conversation. He had learned from repeated experiences that he had no desire to know what the two of them did. Quite a while passed and Ryou even went to make himself a new mug of tea before they decided it was time to break up the little party.

Ryou was leaning sleepily against the armrest when Marik grabbed his chin with two fingers and forced gaze up to him.

"I think we'll be seeing each other again soon, Ryou," Marik said in a tone that was far more threat than anything else. Ryou's brows knit together and he jerked his chin out of the dark man's hand. He was opening his mouth to say something biting when Bakura's voice cut through the room.

"I'll thank you not to touch my property." His posture was casual, leaning against the armrest of the chair he'd been lounging in, he was even inspecting his nails. But the tone he'd used was one that Ryou knew well not to argue with.

That palpable tension was filling the room again, buzzing in Ryou's ears and making him grip the handle of his teacup tight in his hand. Then Marik laughed, long and hard and fucking insane, hands going to his knees to keep upright. At length he stood upright, wiping tears from the corners of his eyes.

"Right, right, I forgot myself," He actually giggled and then walked to the door. "I'll see you tomorrow, Bakura," then he let himself out and walked into the night.

Ryou stood, collecting the mugs and taking them into the kitchen. He dumped out Marik's, it was still full of tea that had long since gone ice cold, and put them in the dishwasher. He turned and Bakura was standing behind him. Ryou jumped.

"Baku—!" His hand came up to his chest, feeling his heart pound against his palm. "Jesus, could you make a noise or something?"

"Ryou I want you to stay away from him," Bakura ordered, his voice very serious. Ryou nodded, trying to step around him. Bakura stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "I'm serious, if he comes over without me don't let him in. If you see him on the street cross the fucking street and call me." Ryou shook the hand off his shoulder and tried to push past again. "Ryou!" There was another shift in the shadows in the corner of Ryou's eyes.

"I heard you the first time," he said in a voice he hoped sounded neutral as he stoically ignored the growing figure to his right.

"Then I expect an answer." Ryou shook his head hard and bodily pushed Bakura out of his way, stomping out of the kitchen and toward the bedroom.

"If he's so dangerous why do you hang out with him?" he shot over his shoulder as Bakura followed him down the short hallway to their shared bedroom. The apartment had two bedrooms, one for Ryou and one for his father. Bakura could have taken the spare, since his father had been gone for so long, but neither of them honestly saw the point in that. They'd been sharing a room and honestly, a bed, since Bakura had developed his own body years ago. And before that they'd been sharing a body so…

"Why I associate with him is none of your fucking business and you should keep it that way."

"Whatever," Ryou muttered, throwing himself into the bed. Bakura made a disdainful noise and sat in the desk chair and glared at the slight boy on the bed. The silence stretched for a few minutes.

"What is your problem lately?" Bakura demanded, teeth gritted together. Ryou rolled his eyes and flipped onto his back, staring at the ceiling rather than his counterpart.

"_You_ are my problem. You've _always_ been my problem." He threw his arm over his burning eyes, closing them against the demon in his room, the long night, the imminent threat of the Egyptian man and everything fucking else.

"I'm trying to _help_ you, Ryou."

"I wouldn't need your help if you would just—"

"Do _not_ finish that sentence." The words were hissed in his ear from mere inches away almost at the same time that Ryou felt the bed move with added weight. He'd pushed too far.

Slowly, Ryou took his arm off of his face, looking up at the furious face and almost red eyes. Bakura was hovering over him, propped up on his hands that were placed on either side of Ryou's head.

"You've forgotten your place, _landlord_," the demon hissed in a voice heavy with the promise of pain. In the edges of Ryou's vision shadows twisted and writhed, forming hands and claws and bugs and—! Ryou clamped his eyes shut, tears running down the sides of his face.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorr…" his throat closed up as terror filtered into his veins like ice water. There was another disgusted noise from above him and a tug at his hair as Bakura pushed himself up and away sharply.

"Whatever. Just go to sleep already."

Ryou opened his eyes a sliver, half expecting something, anything, to swarm over his body, but nothing came. His room was just his room, filled with the normal shadows to be expected for the late hour.

"It's been a long day for you…" Bakura muttered and the younger boy looked up at him in confusion. The taller man stood and pulled off his clothes before slipping into the bed next to his counterpart in nothing but a pair of black boxers. He turned over, scooting to the edge of the bed next to the wall before Bakura could change his mind and punish him further.

Ryou closed his eyes and hoped he wouldn't dream.

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So, honestly I run on props. Can I haz a review please? :) Also, if there's something you wanna see in this leave me a suggestion. It might make its way into the story :)


	3. Chapter 3

I just wanted to say thank you to lemerly for reviewing and thanks to OOOOOO for leaving such a long, detailed review! Honestly it's thanks to your support that I got this update out so fast!

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Ryou sat on the hardwood floor of his bedroom, legs crossed under him. He held a miniature roof in his hand, painting the details on the thatch work. It'd been a long time since he'd indulged in his hobby. The last time had been—. He put the paintbrush he'd been holding down, his hands going still as he stared at the little roof. He'd found the unpainted buildings in the back of his closet earlier today, and he'd sat down to paint them before he really thought about it. Ryou passed the tips of his fingers over the scar on the back of his hand, closing his eyes. He stood unsteadily, pushing to his feet in stages. His legs had fallen asleep long ago and as the blood rushed back in his toes tingled. He put the roof on the desk to dry and walked the dirtied brushes into the bathroom.

"Planning something?" Bakura asked with a pointed look at the brushes. He'd been lounging in the living room, looking at something on the laptop. Ryou's laptop.

"Not really. Just found it and thought I'd finish some pieces," Ryou answered, going into the bathroom and running water over the brushes. He used his thumb to gently coax the water from the bristles.

"Which set is it?" Bakura called from the living room.

"I think it was going to be my hometown in Cheshire. That's what most of the pieces look like anyway. I bought it so long ago that I don't really remember though."

"Back in England?"

"Yeah." Ryou laid the brushes out on a towel to dry and walked out of the bathroom stretching his arm over his head, listening to his joints pop. Vaguely he wondered how long he'd been sitting on his floor painting.

"Ryou, do you miss home?" The smaller boy froze for a second, glancing into the living room. Bakura's back was to him, all he could see was the mess of long white hair and the set of the boy's shoulders as he sat on the couch, fingers poised over the touchpad of the laptop.

"What?"

"Do you miss home? I mean…it would make sense if you did. It's been a long time since we've been home," Bakura said, turning to look over his shoulder at his twin. Ryou waited a few breaths for him to make a joke at his expense, to call him weak, something. But he didn't. He sat there waiting patiently for his response.

"I…" Ryou hadn't given it much thought honestly. He'd lived in England with his mother and his father and Amane. Now he lived here. With Bakura. Life had taken him from England and the familiar street and the smell of rain and dumped him in his father's homeland. With its different language and different customs. "Yeah. I miss it."

"Would you like to go back? We could. Fairly easily." Bakura turned back to the computer and Ryou thought he saw the demon pull up a travel site.

"No..." Amane's had been alive England. And his mother. And all the friends he'd made in school. None of them were anymore, and while he was in Japan some part of him could almost believe that none of them had died. That they were still over there leading their lives and that they missed him as much as he missed them. If he went back and wandered the streets of his hometown… it would mean finally accepting that they're gone, that they're never coming back and that he could never speak to any of them ever again.

"No," he said again, more firmly. "I don't want to go back to that place." Bakura stared at him for a second, mouth open as if he were about to say something else, then shrugged and seemed to let it go. Ryou walked into the kitchen, mostly looking for something to do. He opened the fridge and scanned the contents. "Are you hungry?" he asked the darkness in the next room.

"Not really. But you should eat." Ryou frowned at the fridge and slams the door shut. He grabbed the kettle instead and filled it with water.

"Want some tea?"

"Is that all you're going to make?"

"Unless you want something to eat."

"I told you I'm not hungry."

"Neither am I." There was silence from the next room. Ryou turned toward the doorway and Bakura was standing there, an odd expression on his face. It almost looked like…concern.

"You haven't eaten today." Ryou blinked, almost not following the conversation.

"So? Neither have you," he commented vaguely, setting out the sugar.

"Yes. I did. I ate breakfast while you were painting. And lunch too. You haven't eaten since yesterday," Bakura's voice was low, a deep gritty sound, as if he was taking great pains to keep himself from yelling. Ryou shrugged his shoulders and heard the kettle click over, telling him that the water was boiled. He pushed past the older man and opened a cupboard, pulling out a mug. He was in search of a teabag when Bakura spoke again. "Even when you do eat, it's just…_bits_. You never eat a whole meal, just enough to keep going." Ryou let out an exasperated noise, rolling his eyes.

"What do you care?" he muttered bitterly under his breath. But Bakura heard it anyway.

"Because I fucking do! Jesus Ryou, if you _die_ it will cause _problems_ for me!" he yelled, rounding on the smaller boy and backing him into the corner of the counters.

"And _God forbid_ I make any problems for you! God forbid that you have to lie to father for once—!" Ryou's words were cut off by Bakura's hand tight and solid around his throat.

"Shut the fuck up! Shut your fucking—!" Bakura hissed, throwing him back against the counters. The air rushed out of him in a long breath, his lungs emptying into the space between them. The older man rounded on him before he could catch his breath, holding him up with a fistful of his shirt. Fear crossed his face as Ryou looked up, eyes wide and locked on the face of his attacker. He'd crossed a line and he wasn't sure what would happen next. He'd snapped, his feelings overtaking his more rational thinking.

"I d-didn't…" he started. Bakura shut him up by throwing him onto the floor at his feet. Suddenly there were screams echoing in his ears, loud and were screaming his name.

"Ryou! Ryou look!" his sister's voice echoed in his ears, high and excited. His head snapped up and glanced around the room, looking for the source before his more rational brain could tell him that it as another of Bakura's tricks.

"Ryou no! Stay away from the road!" his mother's voice this time, and with that he was plunged head first into the worst moment of his life. The room around him fell away until it was replaced with a wide asphalt road. His sister stood in front of him, hands stretching toward the road and whatever had caught her eye. Looking back he thought it might have been the picture of a cartoon cat on the billboard across the road. She ran before he could stop her. The squeal of tires cut through the air and a single horn, and it was over. Amane's body lay a scant few feet in front of him. Her body. Empty and oddly flat in the middle, torn through the stomach and leaking, leaking something all over the road and it's thick and red and meat and—! The vision changed, shifted to a bathroom. The tall bathtub in his house in England. He'd gotten up in the middle of the night, woken by the sound of running water. It was a few months after Amane's funeral. The single lily he'd taken from her coffin lid hung above his desk, drying out. It was a keepsake. Ryou took a few quavering steps toward his parent's room. That's where the rushing sound of water was coming from.

"Mommy?" he asked in a thick voice. The word felt foreign on his tongue, it'd been years since he'd called her that, but he could feel something had happened. The sound of water was louder here. He opened the door to his parents' bathroom. Water sloshed around his feet, a few centimeters of it lapping around his toes as if it made sense to be there. He looked up from his feet and into the bathtub. "Mommy?" he repeated, even though he knew, he knew at that point that—.

His mother was in the bathtub, eyes closed and a weird, slack expression on her face. The water in the tub was diluted by a lot, turned an incredibly light pink that got deeper as the tub got deeper. "Mo-Mommy?" he asked one more time, though even at the time he knew it was futile. He'd seen blood and death before now, he knew what it was, that his mother had…

His own kitchen floor swam back into his vision in drips and drabs. He slowly became aware of the fact that he was screaming, low ragged sounds pulling from deep in his chest. There were tears rolling down his cheeks freely and splattering messily onto his chest. He kept whimpering the same word over and over; "Mommy…mommy…mommy…" As soon as he was aware of it he stopped, clenching his jaw and rubbing roughly at the tears on his face. He looked up and a few feet away stood Bakura. The demon glared down at him, his face unreadable and his arms crossed sourly across his chest.

Ryou was curled up in a fetal position on the floor, his chest rising and falling at a frantic pace. His mouth tasted sour, as if he'd vomited. He pushed slowly till he was sitting upright, then pulled his knees close to his chest, letting his hair fall forward till it obscured the room. There was a noise not far from him, Bakura was coming closer. He threw an arm out, flattened palm extended to ward the demon off.

"Please!" his voice cracked on the word. "Please…don't." The footsteps stopped and he swallowed hard. Bakura let out a disgruntled noise.

"Ryou, would you _please_ just fucking listen to me when I talk? Just do as I fucking say, would you?" Bakura said even as he stepped around the boy on the floor. A hand closed around the collar of his shirt and he was hoisted up. Ryou managed to nod, his gaze wide and haunted. He turned that expression away, looking anywhere but the crimson eyes that were so much like his own. Bakura growled under his breath in disgust and something else that Ryou couldn't identify. The demon shook the boy again, trying to get him to say something this time. He did, but Ryou wasn't seeing him. He was still seeing his mother's corpse, the blood she'd leaked into the bathtub from her shredded wrists, the second coffin in his young life. Bakura threw him to the floor, though with less force than before.

Ryou lay on the ground, lacking the will to get up quite yet. That's where the demon left him, crying quietly on the floor as Bakura left the apartment.

* * *

I know it's a little shorter than the last, but this seemed like a good place to stop and honestly I wrote this while drunk, so please be kind! Lol, anyway, reviews are much appreciated!


	4. Chapter 4

Sorry this took so long! I got a real job and I moved, so things were pretty hectic for a while there. Things have calmed down and I'll be able to update much more frequently! I made it longer to try and suck up too!

* * *

Ryou padded around his empty apartment for the third time in as many hours. His classmates wouldn't understand, but he really couldn't stand vacation. He didn't have anything to do and his only regular human interaction was…

Ryou sighed heavily and wandered out of his kitchen. He ended up in his bedroom in front of his over stuffed closet. He'd been vaguely meaning to clear out the more disused clothes for months now. Domino High had a uniform, so he found he needed fewer clothes. Might as well go through it today.

He started pulling shirts down one by one and tossing them into a pile behind him. He paused with a good-sized swath of floor covered; he turned from the room and headed for the kitchen. The apartment was deadly quiet, and the only noise as he moved through it was the floorboards squeaking under his footsteps. He stooped to open the cabinet under the sink and grab a trash bag out of it. Ryou went back to his bedroom, passing the perpetually closed door to his father's bedroom, and started scooping clothes into the bag. He tied it off and stood smiling softly and feeling accomplished, when his eyes fell on a box pushed to the back of his closet and previously obscured by clothing. He blinked.

Ryou pulled the box into his lap and used the edge of his nail to pry up the tape. He yanked straight up and it came off the cardboard with a tick, almost wet ripping sound. Inside the box was a thick book with 'Upton Priory' embossed in gold on a burgundy cover. Under that was some picture frames, all facing down. A small stuffed cat lay in the corner of the box. It had been Amane's. Ryou's eyes slid away from the toy and back to his old yearbook. He picked it up delicately, as if his hands didn't know what to do with a book. He let it fall open to a random page.

**After School Activities**; the top of the page proclaimed, pictures of all the clubs lined up under it. Football, linguistics, drama… he smiled faintly, recognizing a few faces. He'd been 11 when he left that school; he wondered how much the others had grown up over the past 5 years. Ryou turned the page and found his own face looking back up at him. The chess club. His white hair was a tousled mess, bright against the vest of his school uniform and curled chaotically, showing he'd let it air dry that day rather than taking a blow dryer to it like he did now.

The Ryou in the picture, along with the other members of the small club sat on two rows of bleachers, facing the camera and smiling politely. To Ryou's left sat another 11-year-old boy, with light brown hair. His best friend, Brenden.

Ryou went very still. The last time he'd seen Brenden was in a hospital. His friend wasn't moving, and his mother wouldn't stop crying, and needles in his arms, and—!

Ryou closed the book and put it back in its box. He sat frozen on the ground for a few moments, unsure of what to do. His ears were ringing with a rushing sound, as if there were great waves crashing over him again and again. He had no way of knowing how long he sat there, listening to the waves inside his head, but at length a sound cut through his thoughts. The doorbell.

He sat blinking for a moment, unsure of how to respond, then it rang again. He closed the book and pushed it haphazardly with his foot toward the closet and hurried into the hallway toward the front door. The bell rang for a third time and he lengthened his stride, then it rang again.

"Hold on, hold on, I'm coming," he called out. It was only when his hand was on the doorknob that the idea to check the peephole even entered his mind, but he'd already turned the lock and started opening the door.

It swung open and he wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, maybe the old woman who lived two doors down and brought over cookies on the holidays, or the missionaries who'd stopped by a month ago, whoever he'd been expecting it wasn't the Egyptian man in front of him. Ryou's mouth went dry and he backpedaled a step without realizing it. A wild urge to slam the door shut rushed through him. To just close the door and lock it tight, and never have those violet colored eyes focus on him again. It'd been a week since he'd seen Marik last, and Bakura's warning buzzed in his head.

Before Ryou could stop him, Marik stepped through the door, a small amused smile on his face. He toed off his shoes as Ryou unfroze enough to step up out of the tiled entry way and back onto his hardwood floors. He had to swallow twice before he could speak.

"Bakura isn't here, " he said quietly, but his voice was steady. Marik lined his shoes up in a right angle with the tiles and slipped his bare feet into the set of guest slippers before closing the door behind him. Ryou watched with a sort of detached fascination as Marik followed the custom from neither of their cultures. Ryou's own house slippers still sat near the door. He preferred just his socks in the house. Marik stepped past him casually, heading for the living room. "B-Bakura isn't here!" he tried again, voice louder this time.

"I know. I'll just wait for him till he comes back," Marik said simply as he lowered himself onto the couch. And he sat there as if he belonged there, all wild hair and thick muscles and those ridiculous fucking slippers.

"I uh…" Ryou crossed his arms tightly over his chest. "Do…you want something to drink?" he asked, fidgeting as Marik's smile became even more amused.

"A cup of your English tea would be lovely," said Marik. Ryou blinked. Was he being made fun of? Part of him didn't care, would take any chance to get the hell out of here that he could, but another part of him wanted to know how this mand had the never to force his way into Ryou's home and then to mock him in it. Ryou spun on his heel and went to the kitchen before he said something stupid. He filled the electric kettle and turned it on before pulling his phone out of his pocket and tapping out a message to Bakura.

_Marik is here. He says he's waiting for you._ Then he slipped the phone back into his pocket. The boy pulled a pair of mugs from the cupboard. He was dropping a tea bag in each when his phone chimed at him.

_Where is he now?_

_The living room. _ Ryou glanced toward the doorway, but couldn't see the couch from his spot by the counter. He hoped Marik hadn't moved. His phone dinged in his hand almost immediately.

_U let him in?_ Ryou frowned at the screen.

_He just came in. I couldn't stop him._

_Omw_

Ryou slipped the phone in his pocket again just as the kettle clicked off. He poured out the tea and added milk and sugar before bringing it out to Marik. But the couch was empty. Ryou licked his lips nervously and glanced around the room. For one heady moment he thought Marik had gone home, that he'd gotten tired of waiting for Bakura and just gone the fuck _home._ But no, his boots were still in the doorway, and the guest slippers were missing. With a soft sigh he placed one mug down on a coaster next to the couch, and took the other mug with him in search of the older man. It didn't take long. Marik was in his bedroom, thumbing through one of his notebooks he'd left on the desk. Ryou's gaze slid to the box still sticking halfway out of the closet. It looked undisturbed.

"The tea's ready," he said, holding one mug toward Marik. "Bakura said he'd be here soon. You can wait in the living room." Marik steadfastly ignored this. Instead he brandished the notebook at him.

"What is all of this?" he asked imperiously. Ryou glanced at the page covered in his own neat script, then at Marik's face.

"It's my maths notebook. Would you put it down please?" Ryou's voice came out like ice, stinging and frigid. That mocking smile passed over Marik's face again, but he sat the book down where he'd found it.

"Malik has one just like it. Are you in the same class?" he asked, wandering over to Ryou's bookshelf and inspecting the spines.

"No. Malik has maths in third period and I have it in first. It's the same teacher though."

"Period?"

"The school day is split up into 5 periods, a different class for each period. Don't you remember from when…" He was unable to finish the thought, but Marik understood him just fine.

"I had no interest in school. I let Malik deal with that."

Ryou blinked. He didn't imagine Bakura had much interest in school either, and yet he'd be locked away in his soul room for days on end. He looked up to see Marik closing in on the closet, violet eyes locked on the box. Ryou cut him off, stepping in front of it and pushing the mug of tea into Marik's hand.

"Bakura said he'd be here soon…" Ryou repeated. Bronze fingers wrapped around the mug and the older man even took a step back. He went to lean his butt on the edge of Ryou's desk, then blew on the tea before taking a sip. His blonde eyebrows went up a little.

"This is good," he murmured, taking another small sip. Ryou made a face, remembering the untouched mug from the previous week.

"Why did you ask for it if you didn't know what it tasted like?"

"It's rude to refuse others' hospitality," Marik answered as if that made any sense at all. Ryou shook his head faintly and motioned toward the door.

"We can wait for him in the living room," he said for the umpteenth time. Marik didn't move an inch. He stood by the desk, that fucking smile still on his face, and set his mug down. Suddenly he was just _there_, right in front of Ryou before he'd really realized that he'd moved. He pushed the smaller boy against the wall, his head bouncing against it and with a dull thwap. Ryou's arms were above his head, both wrists caught by Marik's larger hand and pinned down while his other hand came up to catch Ryou's chin between his thumb and forefinger. The younger boy found himself looking up into Marik's eyes from only inches away, breath hot on his forehead. His mouth had gone cotton dry, as if all the moisture had been sucked out in the space of seconds; and his body went very still, waiting for the larger man's next move.

There was nothing he could do. He couldn't physically dominate the other man and _force_ him to move away, to let go. No, he was too frail for that, body still developing and muscles yet to form. Ryou barely ate enough to keep a thin layer of fat, never mind build muscle. He could scream, but who would bother coming? How much of a ruckus could he cause before the Egyptian man stopped him? Definitely not enough. Not enough to rouse disinterested neighbors from their days off, from their tv shows and their dinners and their mundane lives to come save a stranger. Terror built up slowly inside him, and he realized it was different from the kind that Bakura instilled in him. This brand of fear didn't tear at his heart with talons, didn't sink into his very soul and rip up what was left of it. If Marik hurt him, it would just be his body, just the vessel that he lived in, and not Ryou himself. But the fear was still there and very, _very_ real.

He let his gaze drop away from those strange violet eyes, down to the broad chest in front of him; but Marik's fingers tightened till a noise escaped his lips and he looked back up. The expression on the darker man's face was unreadable. Nothing that he could put words to. It didn't go with the situation. He'd expected violence or something malevolent, but not the neutral, bordering on soft look he got. Ryou didn't know what to do with a look like that. He let his gaze slide away again.

"Bakura—"

"I know, I know, he'll be back soon. You've said it already," Marik said, dropping his chin and wrists at the same time and taking a step back to study him. The strange expression was gone, replaced by that mocking little smirk. Ryou crossed his arms again and turned his head away.

"Please get out of my room," he said in a firm voice. Marik stared at him for a second then let out one of those wild, manic laughs, throwing his head back. Even when he ran out of air he kept giggling in little bursts.

"If that's what you really want, Ryou." And he left the bedroom with the white haired boy close behind. From the hallway they could both see that Bakura was home. He stood in the entryway kicking off his shoes as he closed the door behind him, then strode into the room quickly, eyes locked on Marik. "Ah! The elder Bakura is home. Just who I wanted to see."

Bakura stopped inches from Marik, his eyes dark and holding that sheen of red they sometimes got when he was really angry. Ryou took a few careful steps away from the scene and into the relative safety of the living room. He curled himself on the couch next to his mug of tea and picked it up. It was still warm. Ryou wondered where Bakura had been to get home so fast.

"I told you not to come here without me, Marik," Bakura said in a low voice. Marik laughed, and it wasn't as threatening this time. The tanned man came into the living room and dropped onto the couch next to Ryou. The smaller boy frowned. He knew he should have sat in the armchair, but that was usually Bakura's spot…

"Did you? I have such a terrible memory for these things," Marik said easily. He lounged back in the couch, throwing his arms over the top of it. Ryou curled a little into himself, trying to get the heat of the other man's body off his neck. He considered walking out of the room to make a quick escape for his bedroom, but decided he didn't want to draw any attention to himself by moving too much. Instead he drew his legs up to his chest and sipped his tea.

"I did. I very specifically told you not to come here unless you were with me," Bakura spat, tone dark and tight. No, Ryou definitely did not want to draw anyone's attention right now.

"But why not, Bakura? Ryou and I have been having a very pleasant conversation," Marik said sweetly. Ryou busied himself with a long gulp of tea, when he chanced a glance at Bakura he looked outwardly calm, but Ryou recognized the angry set of his shoulders, the way tension sang down his forearms.

"And if I started going to Malik for…pleasant conversations?" The threat hung in the air for a few seconds, and Ryou glanced sidelong at Marik to gage his reaction. He'd expected rage, maybe even a punching match between the two men, but Marik's face had split into a wide grin.

"Are you offering me a trade, Bakura?" his tone was…hungry. Marik's arm dropped from the back of the couch heavily onto Ryou's shoulders, then he tugged the smaller boy close to his torso. "Just for a little while of course. Just to see." Ryou's throat closed up in terror, tension filling his body like water and that buzzing coming back into his ears. His grip on the mug tightened until his knuckles went stark white and his eyes locked on the floor in front of him. He pushed back suddenly at the hand over his shoulders, shoving the arm off of him and away.

"Don't touch me," Ryou said in a tight voice, each word said very precise and clear, "Don't ever touch me again." Then he left the room, with the sound of Marik's laughter ringing in his ears.

Ryou had shut himself in his room about 15 minutes ago. Voices wafted in from under the door, though he couldn't make out what they were saying, and didn't try to. He just sat on his bed and stared at the book in his lap, too distracted to actually read anything. The door swung open and Ryou looked up to see Bakura with his hand on the knob.

"Did Marik leave?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Good." Ryou turned his attention back to the book, hoping Bakura to just leave it at that.

"I told you to stay away from him." Ryou sighed and tossed his book to the foot of the bed.

"I did stay away from him. He came here," Ryou said, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.

"And I told you not to let him in if I wasn't here!" Bakura snarled, closing in on the bed. Ryou pushed up from it before he could get there and put the book away to disguise the movement. Truthfully he just didn't want to be near Bakura when he was this mad.

"I didn't mean to. He forced his way in before I could stop him." With the book put away he didn't have anything for his hands to do. He glanced around the room apprehensively and moved over to the desk, straightening some papers.

"And what the fuck did he mean by '_pleasant conversation_'?" Bakura demanded, closing in on the smaller boy again.

"I don't know. I think he just said it to make you angry," Ryou answered honestly. He rubbed his hands up and down his arms and sat heavily back down on the edge of the bed.

"So you just sat here in silence until I came back? And what the fuck was he doing coming out of the bedroom?" Bakura pressed. Ryou flopped down on his back and glared at the ceiling.

"Before I sent you the text I asked if he wanted something to drink. I went and made some tea so I could text you without him seeing, when I came out of the kitchen and he'd gone into the bedroom and was looking around," Ryou recounted, digging his fingers into his hair.

"Looking around? What was he looking at?"

"My notebooks. He asked if Malik and I had the same classes. Honestly Bakura I don't think he was doing anything but passing time. Maybe trying for some weird power play between the two of you, I don't know," Ryou closed his eyes in exasperation and rolled onto his side, turning his back on Bakura. "I don't get any of this stuff…"

"Did he touch you?" Ryou's blood ran cold at the question. He sat frozen on the bed. Somehow he knew that telling Bakura the truth would set off his doppelganger's rage, but lying seemed like a bad idea too.

"On the couch…" he said quietly, sliding off the other edge of the bed, the one farthest from Bakura. He passed through the bedroom door and into the short hallway. He stepped into the bathroom and hit the hot water to start filling the tub. When he turned he found Bakura had followed him.

"_Before._ Did he touch you, _before_ the couch?" Bakura demanded in his own exasperated tone.

Ryou licked his lips and picked up a hairbrush, running it through the already smooth strands of hair.

"Sort of."

"What the fuck does that mean?"

"Bakura, could we just not talk about this anymore? It's been a long day and I just don't…" Bakura had rounded on him, pushing him back toward the rapidly filling bathtub.

"Did he. _Fucking._ _Touch_ _you_?" he growled, eyes narrowed into slits by his rage and his words coming out in a short, clipped staccato. Ryou nodded mutely, mouth going dry for the second time that day. "Where?"

"I-In the bedroom. He pinned my wrists to the wall…and grabbed my chin…like the other night," his voice squeezed out around the fear. The demon in front of him scowled deeper, eyes flashing red, but then he stood up and even took a step back from Ryou.

"See little Ryou, isn't it better when you just answer my questions?" he asked, voice back to normal. Ryou managed to nod once, and then hands were dragging him backward and down into the scalding water in the tub. His eyes went wide and he opened his mouth to scream but a hand clamped down over his mouth.

He ended up fully clothed and plunged in searing water up to his neck and covering his upper thighs with his feet dangling uselessly over the side of the tub. Something was holding him down, one arm across his shoulders, pinning him to its chest and one hand pressed firmly over his mouth. He thrashed and water sloshed violently as his heart hammered in his ears. Ryou's own hands came up to pull the arm off, but when he dug nails into the flesh it ripped away in long, slime covered strips. His stomach lurched. The hand over his mouth was rotting too, skin taught over the bloated flesh underneath, fingers like fluid filled sacks pressing against his lips. He screamed into the hand and tears washed down his cheeks.

"You let her die," said his mother's voice, sounding thick and wet. Ryou went deathly still, a tingling spread through his body first, and then a wave of overwhelming horror after it. He turned enough to look at the thing out of the corner of his eye.

His mother's water-bloated corpse was holding him against her ruined chest in the tub. A ragged shriek left his throat, only to be muffled by the rotting hand pressed to his mouth. He thrashed and struggled against it again, desperate to get away, get far, _far_ away from her. But she was strong, and the only thing his thrashing managed to do was open the deep wounds in her wrists. He was covered in black, coagulated blood in seconds. Where the water of the tub touched it it became a bright, cherry red. Bright as the day he'd seen it spilled from her wrists.

"You let Amane die. You couldn't save her. Why didn't you stop her Ryou? Why didn't you grab her and throw her out of the road? You were her big brother. You were supposed to protect her and you _failed_," his mother's voice filled his ears and sobs wracked his chest.

She was breaking apart in the water, great swaths of her skin sloughing off into the water till the surface was covered in a black, oily film that sank into his clothes and hair. He shrieked into her palm and struggled weakly as she whispered in his ear. When he finally clawed the hand away it broke off with a brittle sound and plopped into the water. His stomach lurched at the sight of the bleeding stump and the floating hand. It sank slowly, wrist slipping under the water first before the fingers disappeared too. He felt his head spin. Ryou managed to force his eyes to focus on something other than the decay that covered him, that was inking sinking into his pores. He found Bakura, watching him from the door, arms crossed over his chest and leaning his weight onto one hip against the door frame.

"Please! God please Bakura! N-no more!" he managed before the other hand clapped over his mouth with a wet slap. Green pus ran down his chin to splatter messily into the water and he felt his stomach heave again.

"Will you listen to me the next time I ask a question? Will you just give me an answer the first time I ask you?" Bakura inquired in an almost bored tone. His eyes never left the struggling boy in the filthy water. Ryou nodded hard, over and over as tears rolled down his face freely. He kept pulling weakly at the arms binding him, but he couldn't break free. He was covered from his head all the way to his knees in blood and thicker things, flesh and pus and big wet chunks of black stuff he had no desire to identify. He managed to choke out the word 'please' one more time, but it came out faint and hoarse.

As suddenly as the thing had appeared it was suddenly gone and he could finally lurch out of the water. Ryou's hand slipped on the edge of the tub and he landed heavily on the point of his elbow, the impact running all the way up to his fingertips. He scrambled again and just barely got his head over the toilet before he threw up violently. His stomach emptied itself in a matter of seconds and he was left dry heaving and trembling as he clutched the bowl. He refused to open his eyes, too terrified of what might be there when he did. He heard Bakura sigh, then felt a hand in his hair. He froze, expecting the skin to start to drip, to slide down the back of his neck and—. He was sick into the toilet again. Bakura crouched beside him, sitting back on his haunches.

"You'll be good from now on, won't you Ryou?" he asked softly. Ryou could do nothing but nod, and slowly start to cry again.

* * *

Thank you again to lemerly, Nathanel, TheDarkestFears, and Ern Estine for writing reviews! And a big thanks to 000000 for writing another long review! I really appreciate it! Please review again? Also, suggestions! I like them!


	5. Chapter 5

So I'm kind of wondering if I got a little too dark on y'all the last chapter? Please let me know! Sorry this took so long to get out!

Ryou had been laying in bed staring at the wall for the last hour. His sleep shirt had ridden up to his chest, exposing a long line of bare skin. He was chilled and he'd been meaning to pull the blankets up, or his shirt down, do something to warm himself; but every time he moved to do something he couldn't muster the energy. He was stuck in stasis, unable to will himself to move. Ryou blinked at the wall absently and curled his fingers against his pillow. He could feel the muscles under his skin, stiff and bunched from being too cold for too long, knew that they were forming tight knots that would need to be laboriously worked out, and still he couldn't bring himself to move, to just reach down those couple of inches and pull up the blankets.

Rustling noises came from the hallway, the bedroom door opened. He knew he should turn, talk to the other man, but he still couldn't turn away. Bakura sat on the bed next to him, his weight causing the mattress to dip down. There was silence for a few seconds, then Bakura shook his shoulder gently. Ryou slowly flipped onto his back, frozen skin meeting equally chilled sheets, but slowly starting to warm up.

"How long are you going to sleep?" Bakura asked, looking down at him. Ryou shrugged and turned his eyes away, gaze fixed on a corner of the ceiling.

"Does it matter?" This vacation felt never ending and not in the least relaxing.

"Your phone's been going off all morning." Ryou shrugged again, but since Bakura hadn't asked a question he didn't bother to verbally respond. The phone in question is dropped onto his chest with a dull thud. He picks it up and clicks the screen on. Out of habit more than any desire to know what it said. His notification page was empty, but when he opened the home screen he'd missed several calls and there were a number of texts he didn't recognize. Bakura must have read them first. He glanced up at his doppelganger. Bakura just watched him, one leg tucked under him and the other slung over the edge of the bed. Ryou turned his attention back to the phone.

There was one call from Yugi, from yesterday, and then three from Malik all in the last two hours. He flipped over to the texts. Yugi had invited him to the mall with the others. He'd have to respond to that, but later. He'd missed it anyway.

The previous day had been spent scrubbing down every inch of the bathroom with a mixture that was far more bleach than water. Ryou knew everything he'd seen had been an illusion, the bathwater was even crystal clear when he went to drain it. Yet he couldn't stomach the idea of being in the room until he'd scoured every inch of it, as if he could scrub the memories from the very tiles.

The next texts were from Malik, sent yesterday.

_Hey_

_ Ryou._

_ Ryyyyoooou_

_ Answer the fucking phone!_

And then from that day:

_Ryou?_

_ Ryou are you okay? Yugi says he can't get ahold of you either._

_ Bakura you white haired git make him respond to these!_

Ryou raised an eyebrow at said white-haired git. He knew Bakura and Malkik had had some sort of relationship, but he was never sure what exactly that entailed. Sometimes he got the feeling he didn't want to know.

The phone buzzed in his hands as another text came through.

_Bakura you fucker. Fine. I'll come over myself and see him._

Ryou barely got a chance to read the message before the phone was snatched from his hands and Bakura started typing something quickly. He let out a growl and stoped typing without sending anything, opting to call Malik instead.

"You don't need to come over," Bakura spat as soon as the call was answered. Ryou heard the faint sound of Malik speaking on the other end.

"He's fine, he's just been in bed all day," another response. "No he's not sick!" Bakura almost sounded insulted.

Suddenly the phone was flung at Ryou. He barely managed to catch it, cradling his hands against his chest.

"Tell that ornery fucker that you're fine," Ryou glanced up at Bakura, confused. The older male always acted oddly around Malik, but a few months ago they'd had a fight, or so Ryou suspected. Malik stopped coming around after that, and Marik had arrived.

"Hello?" Ryou asked, sitting up in the bed and pulling his shirt down over his bare stomach. Bakura crossed his arms and stood watching him.

"Ryou? Are you okay?" Malik sounded worried and suddenly he felt bad for never bothering to return his calls. He'd never understood Malik's actions toward him. They'd spent a little time together whenever Bakura's control over him lapsed, and then more in school after…

"I'm fine. Sorry I didn't text you back. I've been asleep most of today."

"It's 5:30…Are you sick?" Ryou blinked in surprise. He knew it was late, but hadn't realized just how late. How long had he been staring at the wall?  
"No, I'm not sick…" he said quietly, eyes flicking up to the man watching him. "I'm really fine."

"Well I'm still coming over. I'm stopping somewhere first, but I'll be there in about half an hour." Then he hung up. Ryou glanced down at the phone, but it had gone back to the home screen already. He looked up at Bakura.

"He said he'd be here in half an hour," he reported, slipping out of the bed on the side farthest from the other boy. Ryou walked around the bed and toward the bathroom.

"Did he say what he wants?" Bakura asked following him from the room.

"No." Ryou glanced into the living room and found it bathed in early evening light. The bathroom still smelled faintly of bleach even though he'd rinsed everything down twice. He opened the small window above the shower. Bakura took up his usual place leaned against the bathroom door. Ryou did his best to ignore him as he stripped down.

"Have you spoken much to him at school?" Bakura asked, looking at himself in the mirror and taking a brush to his unruly hair. Ryou tested the water with his hand, adjusted it a little then stepped in.

"Not really."

"Why not?"

"We don't have the same classes anymore," Ryou answered simply, scrubbing shampoo through his roots. A thickly floral scent hit his nose and he paused. He looked at the shampoo bottle and noticed the usually clear label was tinted purple. It was lavender scented, he hadn't noticed when he'd bought it.

"What's that smell?" Bakura asked, glancing over.

"Lavender. It's the shampoo," Ryou answered, ducking his head under the water stream and sending a torrent of suds down his shoulders.

"You don't usually get scented shampoo."

"It was a mistake." There was silence for a moment.

"Are you okay Ryou?" Bakura's voice came through the curtain, tone soft. Ryou blinked, not following the conversation for a moment. He turned to look at the translucent shower curtain. He could see Bakura's shadow, cast by the light from the hallway, and more faintly Bakura's form through the plastic, though it was mostly the impression of colors.

"Yeah," Ryou you picked up a bottle of shower gel. "Yeah, I'm fine." The curtain jerked to one side, letting out a flood of captured steam and slapping his wet skin with cool air. "Jesus Bakura!" he started, one hand going down automatically to cover himself.

"You aren't _fine_, Ryou. You haven't been _fine_ for fucking months," Bakura spat at him, brows knit together tightly. Ryou tried to close the curtain, but Bakura's fingers wrapped around his wrist like a vice. Ryou winced in pain and tried to take his hand back. "You sleep all the fucking time, you don't eat, you're always spacing out and forgetting things. You never used to be like this," Bakura continued, his grip tightening with every sentence. Ryou twisted his wrist around in a circle, breaking Bakura's grip with the aid of the water.

"Bakura, I'm trying to shower," he said firmly. He took a step back under the water again.

"I don't give a fuck if you're in the shower!" Shadows in the room lurched as if they were filled with water. Ryou took an involuntary step back as if he'd been burned. His back hit the slick tile of the wall and for a scant second he thought it was his mother's hands, covered in slime and blood and—. He let out a scream; one short, shrill sound before clapping a hand over his own mouth. His stomach clenched up tight, sending a shoot of bile up his throat. Wide eyes locked with the demons, tears forming and rolling down his cheeks to merge with the shower water and he felt panic start to creep over his chest, constricting his lungs and making his mind start to blur around the edges. He couldn't get enough air and his stomach kept flipping over and over. He needed to look around the bathroom, see if she was here, where her hands were coming from, where he would be grabbed, try to runtrytogetawaystopstopstop—.

The doorbell rang, cutting through the steam filled air like something solid and heavy. The boys looked at each other for a second before Bakura turned on his heel and left the room. Ryou collapsed almost as soon as he was gone, hands bracing on his knees to keep himself standing. He took a few heated breaths, trying to clear his head enough to think. He opened his eyes and the bathroom was exactly what it was supposed to be, white tiles and too much steam. Still, he had a feeling he'd have to clean this room again. He stood slowly, stepping under the water and tipping back his head, mouth open to catch it in his mouth. He rinsed his mouth out and spat before getting out.

With a towel wrapped tightly around his waist he left the bathroom. Malik and Bakura stood in the entryway, the Egyptian boy holding a number of plastic bags. They looked as if they'd been having a quiet, heated argument, but they stopped speaking as soon as they spotted the second albino boy. Ryou saw Malik put on a fake smile.

"Hey Ryou. How are you feeling?" he asked softly, like he was a little kid who'd caught mommy and daddy fighting. Ryou shifted on his feet.

"I'm really am fine you didn't have to come," he said, one hand clasped to the towel around his waist. "I'm just gonna go get dressed…" He half expected Bakura to tell him he was 'fine as he was'. He didn't.

Ryou retreated to his room, leaning against the door for a second and let out a long sigh. He pulled on a long sleeved shirt and a pair of jeans before leaving the relative safety of the empty room.

Bakura had sprawled himself out on the armchair and was angrily flipping through channels on the TV. Ryou glanced around for Malik but couldn't find him, then he heard banging from the kitchen. He started past Bakura, but the older boy stopped him.

"Bring me a cup of tea," he ordered. Ryou nodded, continuing to the kitchen. "Please." Ryou hesitated at the word, glancing back to the living room, but he could only see the back of Bakura's head. Ryou ran a rough hand through his damp hair. Sometimes his life was too difficult to decipher.

Malik was bustling around the kitchen chopping vegetables and pulling spices out from the closet, though most of the spices came from the plastic bags littered around his feet. He turned when Ryou came in, a bright smile on his tanned face.

"Hey! Long time no see huh?" he said cheerily while walking past his friend to grab a pot from a cupboard.

"yeah. I guess it has been a while," he agreed, watching Malik throw a hearty pad of butter into the pot, followed by an amalgam of veggies. Ryou flicked the electric kettle on and leaned against the counter. "What's with all this?" he asked gesturing at the food. Malik turned to look at him, one hand stirring at the pot.

"Honestly? Anzu saw you in the hallway the other day and texted me. She said you look like crap," he said, dropping a handful of garlic into the pot. Malik had always been a little blunt.

"She didn't say that."

"Not exactly. But she did say you looked pale… Well… 'er than normal," Malik said with a snort. Ryou couldn't help but smile.

"So _you're_ the one saying I look like crap?" Ryou teased. Malik didn't seem to pick up on his stone, or maybe he was distracted by the cooking.

"Well a little. When was the last time you slept?" he asked. Ryou shrugged, opening a cabinet and dropping a tea bag in a mug. The water clicked over. Ryou poured it over the bag slowly, watching the water stain brown.

"What are you making?" he asked, changing the subject as Marik arranged triangles on a cookie sheet and shoved it in the oven.

"Red lentil soup and pita bread. Don't tell Bakura it's the frozen kind, he can't tell the difference but he'll insist he can and he'll be a huge baby about it," Malik warned, grinning with a conspiratorial glint in his eye. Ryou smiled back and finished fixing the tea. He paused halfway to the door, watching Malik fish the seldom used blender from a top cabinet.

"Hey Malik?"

"Yeah?"

"…How do you know where everything is in here?" Ryou asked, voice gone soft and eyes locked on the steam rising from the mug in his hands. Malik let out another little laugh behind him.

"What are you talking about Ryou? I've cooked over here tons of times. You remember—" there was a sudden pause, perhaps where Malik's brain caught up with his mouth.

"No…I don't," Ryou murmured. Silence settled into the room like a thick gas. He left to bring Bakura his tea, wondering if he'd just lost weeks, or even months to the demon.

When he came back Malik was adding water to the pot and the air smelled of spice. Ryou sneezed. Malik seemed determined to change the atmosphere from before. He chattered about whatever crossed his mind, school, homework, school gossip, movies.

"We should go see something before the break ends," he offered. Ryou found himself nodding.

"Yeah…I really want to see that uh… it's uh…" he snapped his fingers as if that would call the name to his mind. "You know, the trailer where the couple moves in with the old lady and she's got all those baby dolls and cribs?" Malik's blond eyebrows shot up.

"That horror movie?" he asked, tone incredulous. "That thing looks terrifying." Ryou laughed and shrugged.

"Not really. Paranormal Activity was terrifying. That one looks pretty tame. Your typical jump scare horror flick." Malik shook his head, dumping thick soup into the blender.

"I never took you for a horror fanatic," he commented. "But sure, we can go see that. As long as we see it before the sun goes down." Ryou laughed at him, but agreed.

Malik pureed the soup and poured out three bowls, adding a thick dollop of yogurt to the center of each orange, steaming portion.

"Tell 'Kura dinner is ready," he said, pulling the cookie sheet from the oven. It took Ryou a few seconds to realize he meant Bakura. The nickname just didn't fit the image Ryou had in his head, couldn't coexist with the time lapses, and the shadows and his mother's hand disappearing into the water and—. He had to take a number of deep breaths. Malik didn't seem to notice.

Ryou stepped out into the living room. Bakura was still in the arm chair. If it had been anyone else he would have said the boy was pouting.

"Um. Dinner is ready," he said. Bakura crossed his arms over his chest.

"I'm not hungry," he said petulantly. He'd never seen this side of Bakura. Angry, vengeful, domineering, yes, but never sulking. He looked much younger, curled up in the armchair refusing dinner.

"Fuck off Bakura, come eat dinner with us!" Malik yelled from the other room. Bakura shot up from his seat fast enough to startle his younger twin. Ryou backpedaled a step as Bakura charged past him into the kitchen.

"Why don' you say that to my face rather than hiding the next room!" he bellowed. Ryou smiled in spite of himself, following after the taller boy. The lively atmosphere was a welcome change of pace. He hadn't realized how grey the apartment had seemed.

Their little kitchenette table was laden with dishes it hadn't seen in ages. Three bowls of the thick, fragrant soup plus the pot in the middle for seconds; another bowl full of yogurt and yet another with lemon wedges orbiting around a plate piled high with steaming pieces of pita. Ryou's stomach let out a very audible growl, raising a blush to his cheeks. Malik laughed at him and Bakura gave him a little push toward the table before throwing himself into a chair.

They sat around the table chatting and passing bowls around, dipping pieces of pita into the soup. Ryou took Malik's lead, squeezing a few lemon wedges over the surface of the soup and mixing it in, though Malik used more of the little wedges than he did. The flavors wove together beautifully, the heat of the soup cut by the yogurt and the flavors of the spices and veggies accented by the lemon juice. Ryou finished a third of his bowl quickly, content to listen to the others bicker while he ate. At length he had to come up for air, and to give the tight, thick feeling in his stretched stomach time to relax.

"This is really good, Malik," he commented, taking a swig of water.

"Thanks. My brother always made it for me when I was sick. He said the spices clear your sinuses," Malik said around a mouthful of pita. Bakura blew his nose loudly as if to drive the point home. "Ew! Jesus Bakura! Do that in the bathroom or something!" Malik berated, his nose wrinkled up in disgust. Ryou let out a little giggle, then another, and another until he was laughing so hard tears were pricking at his eyes. Malik grinned at his friend and started laughing too, even Bakura was smiling. He might have joined in if the doorbell hadn't rang. Ryou turned in this seat, still giggling sporadically though Malik and Bakura had gone very still. Ryou stood to go answer the door when the bell rang again. Oh. That's why the others were so tense.

"I'll get it," Bakura said, pushing to his feet and striding from the room. Ryou had enough time to look over at Malik. His violet eyes had clouded over, as if something had leached all the color from them and turned them hard, cold. He sat a little straighter in his chair, food forgotten in from of him.

"There you are, omocha," Marik's voice growled behind him. Malik's eyes flashed at the nickname. Ryou turned, feeling surprisingly calm. At least until he saw the Egyptian's face. Marik's face held a sort of easy violence, it reminded Ryou of martial arts masters. The way they stood before the match started, all relaxed and casual, comfortable with the knowledge that they could break bones with only a hit. He watched violet eyes sweep over the table. "This looks delicious." He took a step closer to the table.

Ryou pulled his arms into his lap, shoulders hunching forward subconsciously, making himself smaller. Beside him Malik's hands stayed on the table, spoon held lightly between his index, middle finger, and thumb. Bakura reappeared in the little kitchen and the atmosphere was tense again. Ryou was reminded of a time when his school visited a bee farm. The cumulative buzzing of thousands of bees had filled the air till he could almost feel it in his bones. He'd waited on the bus that day, playing gin rummy with the bus driver until everyone came back.

But now there was no bus to hide in, no kindly old bus driver to distract him as Marik put a hand on his shoulder and bent down to pluck a piece of pita from the plate. He dunked a corner into Ryou's soup before eating it slowly.

"I thought I told you not to touch my property," Bakura growled at him, voice sharp and brittle. Marik stood, licking his fingers, hand still resting on the smaller boy's shoulder. Ryou had gone very quiet and very still under that hand. Anger simmered up inside him. This was _his_ house, so why did he so often feel unsafe in it? He shook his shoulder, pushing Marik's touch away. He stood with the pretense of pouring himself more water. The older male smiled like he'd done something amusing, but turned to address Bakura.

"Why shouldn't I touch your property when you have mine over to cook you dinner," he asked, popping the last bite of bread into his mouth and licking his fingers.

"I'm not your property," came Malik's voice, firm and with the first heat of anger to it.

"So you keep saying," Marik retorted. "My point is if Bakura gets one on one time with my…" one of those hysterical little laughs bubbled out of him, "better half, then why shouldn't I get the same privilege?"

"I came here to visit Ryou. Bakura had nothing to do with it. And it's not one on one time, there are three of us," Malik argued. Marik shrugged and dropped into Ryou's abandoned chair.

"I'm simply asking for the same privilege."

"Fine."

Three sets of eyes swiveled to look at Ryou. He stood leaning against the sink, water glass full and held in both hands. He was afraid his hands might shake if they weren't holding onto something.

"Ryou—" Bakura's growl almost made him back down, but he held his ground.

"No, it's fine. Malik and I are going to see that movie before it goes out of theaters. Marik can come along too." Silence buzzed in the room again. Said Egyptian man clapped.

"Perfect!" he let out a laugh. "That's settled then." Bakura and Malik exchanged a glance and something passed between the two of them and Bakura let ou another low growl. Marik stood and started for he door.

"We'll be leaving then," he stopped on his way to stand very close to Ryou, forcing the shorter boy to look up at him. "And thank you Ryou, for being so sensible about this." Then he was sweeping from the room with Malik in tow. He pointed to his cell phone, signaling he'd text Ryou soon.

As soon as the front door closed Bakura rounded on his smaller counterpart.

"What the _fuck_ were you thinking?" he demanded, voice tight and clipped. Ryou turned, dumping out the water.

"He's not going to stop. Whatever he's doing, he's not going to stop until he gets what he wants, and I'd at least like to figure out what the hell it is. Besides, Malik will be there. And we'll be in public. What's the worst he could do?"

As he turned to face the room again Bakura threw a punch. His fist connected solidly with Ryou's cheek and he tasted blood.

"Fine! You want to take things into your own hands? Be my guest, Ryou! But don't fucking count on me for help. You're on your fucking own with this one. Understand?!" Bakura was screaming by the end, his face a tight knot of rage. Ryou had collapsed back against the counters with the swing, one hand pressed to his split lip. He stored a little dazed as Bakura stormed from the room, then the apartment, slamming the door hard enough he could feel it.

At length he stood, hands shaking slightly. He'd been left alone to clean both the kitchen and the blood from his face.


End file.
